


My Sweet Prince

by lostinmymindforever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood, Demon Dean Winchester, F/M, M/M, Murder, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester, Serial Killers, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinmymindforever/pseuds/lostinmymindforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam was Dean's and no one else's</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Sweet Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pavses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pavses/gifts).



Dean Winchester died when he was 23 years old, not that his father or brother ever knew. John had retreated to some cabin in the woods not long after Sam had left for college, and well Sam was on his own for the first time in his life. After Sammy had left, after his one anchor had deserted him and his father had retreated to his drunken stupor Dean had been lost in a spiral of depression that resulted in him taking his own life.

Not six months later he clawed his way out of Hell, by some chance into his own body, which by some small miracle was whole, no sign of decomposition or the bullet hole that should have been present in his skull. With no obvious signs of his death Dean made his way among the world, not sure why or how he was back. The depression was swiftly returning and he knew that without Sam he would end things all over again.

It didn’t take much to steal the Impala from John, the man was more drunk than sober nowadays, and Dean drove like the hounds of Hell were chasing him, drove nonstop until he was pulling up outside of Sam’s dorm. He watched as Sam walked towards his building with this girl, this innocent looking blonde who Dean just hated at first glance. She was touching his Sam on the arm, an innocent gesture, but it was enough to have Dean seeing red.

Dean didn’t go to Sam, not right away, not until SHE was out of his way. Dean followed her, cornered her alone, took her somewhere private and gutted her, destroying the body. She had asked him why, why was he doing this, what had she done to him, and his only answer was that she had touched what belonged to him. Her name was Jessica, he had found out that much, and a small part of him was troubled at what he had done, but Sam was his and his alone, and no one, no one but Dean was allowed to touch Sammy.

He followed Sam for days, waiting for the right moment, waiting for a time when it would be safe to go to him and at last he found it. Sam’s roommate was going away, winter break you see, and Sam was staying behind. He was the only one left in his dorm, everyone else had a home to go to, and this suited Dean.

To say Sam was shocked to see him was an understatement, but it didn’t take much for him to let Dean into his room. And it didn’t take much for Dean to have Sam exactly where he wanted him, naked and panting under him, as if the last year and a half of them being apart had never happened. Dean was back where he belonged, buried deep inside Sammy’s body, making Sam moan with pleasure and pain as Dean took him again and again. It wasn’t long after that that Dean convinced Sam to leave with him, a few choice words, a few simple looks, and the fact that Sam had been the last person seen with Jessica didn’t hurt either. 

Her remains had been found, what was left of them that was, her mangled corpse broken and bloody, no trace of Dean on it, he was too smart for that. And so they left California, driving for days, only pausing to rest. Sam knew that Dean had killed Jessica, he knew it the minute her body turned up. It wasn’t the first time, and Sam knew it wouldn’t be the last time Dean killed for him.

Sam remembers the first time. He’d been barely 12 and there had been this boy, only a year older than him, who had taken a liking to him. Sam had wanted the attention, loved the things the boy had done, had shown him. They hadn’t gone all the way, oh no, Dean saw to that. Dean had come home earlier than Sam had expected, and the boy had been just about to fuck him, Sam was stretched, ready, wanting so much, and Dean had walked in. 

Sam hadn’t seen the blade in Dean’s hand until it was slashing across the boy’s throat, and it had turned him on more than even the boy’s touches had. He came on the spot, staring in morbid fascination as Dean shoved the corpse off of him and had taken the boys place, entering Sam in one fast almost brutal thrust. Sam knew he was broken, twisted as much as Dean was. After they were done, both of them covered in sweat and blood and come, they had disposed of the body, something they both knew how to do due to their upbringing. 

Sam still gets hard thinking of that first kill. That first innocent dead because he dared to touch what belonged to Dean. The first but far from the last. The next one came only a few weeks later. They had moved once again and Sam and Dean were the new kids. This time it was a girl, this pretty little thing who had taken a liking to Sam. And Sam knew how Dean was, knew just how Dean would react if he found Sam in a compromising position, and Sam led the girl to her death.

He had told Dean where he was going, this little place in the woods they had found, and he led the girl there. She had quickly gotten on her knees, mouth wrapped around Sam’s cock when Dean walked in. Sam had smiled wickedly, whispering, “We have company, Sweetheart.”

The girl, Karen, Kristy, Karla, Sam wasn’t sure what, had looked up, eyes wide with shock, but Dean had just smiled, that little grin of his that made people think he was safe, that he was one of the good guys. That smile that had people dropping their pants for him. “Does he want to play too?” the girl had asked.

“Oh, you have no idea, Sweetie,” Dean had practically purred, yanking the girl up off the ground by her hair, his knife at her throat. “Mm, so pretty, Sammy. You know how to pick them.”

Sam had grinned, flushed with pride over his choice. His breathing sped up as he watched Dean carve into the girl, like the artist he was. Sam could still hear her ragged breaths, the way she fought to breathe, each one sounding more and more labored as blood poured from her mouth, as Dean shoved him against the wall, slamming their mouths together, Dean’s hand fisting both of their cocks, until they came almost at the same time she breathed her last. Her body they burned, and Dean fucked him feet away from her burning corpse, hands leaving bruises on Sam’s hips.

Over the years it happened time and again and their father never knew the truth, never knew how twisted and evil his sons were, never knew how in between hunts, both human and other, the boys would fuck on a daily basis, but it never was the same as after a kill. And now Sam was back where he belonged, at Dean’s side, hunting and killing just like they used to do. Sam hadn’t been with anyone the whole time he was at college, he had saved himself for Dean. Sam hadn’t wanted to go, but his father had enrolled him, telling him that one of them was going to make something of themselves, that one of them was getting out of the life.

Sam never told Dean that it had been their father’s idea for him to leave, not until about six months after Dean had came for him. They were out drinking, scanning the crowd for their next victim, and Dean had flat out asked why he had left. Sam couldn’t lie to Dean, he never had been able to, and so he told him. That news, that bit of information had made up Dean’s mind, and by the next morning they were on the road, driving up to John’s cabin.

John was shocked to see the two of them standing on his doorstep. He broke down, crying out at the unfairness of it. Telling Dean how disappointed he was that he hadn’t left well enough alone and let Sam get out. Those words resulted in Dean backhanding him, and by the time John came to he was chained to the ceiling, bleeding out slowly. 

Sam and Dean were naked on the bed before him, waiting for him to wake before starting. He wasn’t dying, not yet at least, but both of them knew he’d be dead by the time they left him. Sam was on his back, legs held against his chest, and he moaned as Dean leaned in, licking at his hole, teasing him. John tried to look away, tried to yell at them to stop but he was too weak, from the booze, from blood loss, and the gag in his mouth prevented his screams from leaving his mouth.

He watched in horror as Dean licked and fingered Sam into orgasm, watched as Dean slowly entered Sam’s body before fucking him hard, fast, brutal, Sam screaming out Dean’s name, clawing at Dean’s back, leaving bloody scratches along Dean’s flesh. He knew his children were damned, lost, that they had been tainted ever since Sammy was a baby and the demon had killed their mother. John knew that nothing he could have done would have ever stopped this, that he had raised the things he had fought against for so very long.

And in the end when Dean looked over at him, eyes black as night, he knew he was staring into the depths of Hell, that his precious sons were gone, leaving these monsters, these demons in their place. He wanted to scream, wanted to fight, but he was too weak, too broken, and as the two of them crawled from the bed, bloody and smiling, both of them holding blades in their hands, he knew his end was near. The last thing he saw was them sharing a kiss, that with anyone else would have been a pure and wonderful thing, but it was just as tainted and twisted as his sons had become.

Sam and Dean reached out, blades slashing across John’s throat. They smiled, falling back onto the bed, Dean taking Sam once more. When they were done they cleaned up and set the place ablaze, a fitting end to their father, going up in flames as their mother had so many years prior, it was almost poetic in a way.

They drove from the blaze, a dark contentment filling them. The world was theirs, theirs to hunt, to kill, to destroy, to rule. Dean smiled over at his dark prince, the one he knew was destined to rule Hell, and he knew without a doubt that he’d forever be at his side as his dark consort. It wasn’t a bad life, and it was only beginning.


End file.
